kapuchu

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Having placed his hands in his pockets, Emile listened with rapt attention as his new acquaintance made her reply. The edge to her voice told him that she did not appreciate his refusal to swear by her binding oath, although to think that possible would have constituted an error in judgment. For her to expect someone in his position to willingly give a stranger with her own agenda power over him, though, was as naive a hypothesis. No doubt suspicion riddled her, which Emile couldn't blame her for given the myriad reasons why trusting him would be unwise, but what choice did she have? Lily seemed to know it, too, and in the end offered him a different arrangement in which he had nothing to lose.

Though prepared to answer, he kept his silence as the kitsune continued, particularly when she revealed her phylactery. Its light and movement caught Emile's eye, and a certain notion popped into his head—one that would make things so simple. For a few moments the urge throbbed within him, but in the end a wry smile appeared beneath his helmet, and he did not move. Instead, he bore quiet witness as visible emotion wracked the woman before him, new and poignant details of her past laid bare. When Lily ceased her explanation, he removed his hands and held them palm-forward, at an angle away from his body. “From the sound of it, it would be utter foolishness for me to inflict any harm upon you. I'm not at all afraid, then, to give you my word that I will not try to kill you. Having felt myself the pain of living without my friends and family for years, I sympathize with your plight, though that's not to say my woes compare to yours. Hopefully, our cooperation will be a fruitful endeavor for us both.”

From his back, a green-blue light began to shine, and at once twin streams of magical energy burst forth to take the shape of wings. Emile stepped from the top of the pillar and floated down toward where Lily and Brucie stood, his wings of aether shining in a slow dance reminiscent of aurora borealis. When his boots touched stone, the wings disappeared, and the owl stood eye-to-eye with the fox. He half-turned to the left, reaching out a hand toward where the curved swords lay against the stone. From nowhere a rush of wind, visible in the form of a greenish-white eddy, sent the weapons flying into his hand. In a casual manner he held the two by the middles of their scabbards by his side, and with his other hand he indicated the great raven not too far away. “Let's head over, then. Food, lodging, armament, whatever you require. I'm anxious to introduce you to my friends: my Armada, the lasting legacy of the others who left me too long ago. Although, some are my own.” He glanced back toward them. “Oh. I should have mentioned, but while Emile is my original name, it cannot be said to be my true name anymore. I'm better known as Carreau, the Skydiving Prince of the Air.” With pep in his step started off in the direction of the colossal bird, back turned to his new comrades. “I'll thank you to use that name,” he spoke on, “And to forget about my past. Who I am now is all that matters: the last remaining Great One of Air Rave.”

Lily gave a curt nod and followed, stopping only briefly to pick up the dog her arms where he huddled contentedly. Her expression changed little during the walk, and she said even less. She seemed either unwilling to talk, or had nothing she deemed important enough to say.

The animalistic quartet approached giant blackbird over rough terrain, angling toward where its tailfeathers touched the ground. As they grew closer, a prodigous stone staircase became visible along the central plumes, and upon reaching it Carreau began to climb without delay. A good few dozen steps later, the grand gateway into the citadel loomed over them, and Carreau took a moment to mutter something seemingly to himself.

“Mask Presence, off.”

Though difficult to discern in what light the bright windows of the great structure provided, the air around Carreau flickered. Before anything else could be gleaned from the strange shimmer, something hit Lily and her friends in the whole of their beings. Not quite a wind, or any visible power, it struck them as a purely mental pressure radiating from the masked man before them. Suddenly he did not at all seem like some game-playing shmuck in an overcoat, playing with unearned power. Now he gave off the impression of a ruler--no, a warlord, with immense power and malice kept at bay only by incomprehensible wisdom and mercy. He bore an unmistakable, unignorable authority, one that might be describable only as the aura of a higher being, as he set his armored boot upon the final step and sauntered toward the open gate. And yet Lily barely even twitched, looking about looking more bored than impressed.

To either side of the doorway, standing guard, was a sentinel in heavy, white armor, each bearing an intricate bident and a tower shield formed of interlocking wings. Between them, just slightly to the left, a woman stood at attention. She wore clothes somewhat reminiscent of a formal dress mixed with a kunoichi’s garb, white and black in coloration, albeit with a blue-to-red gradient on the scarf that replaced what might have been a fancy collar on more traditional formal wear. The feathered throwing daggers on her belt gleamed in the glow of the interior’s crystal lamps, just as did the single black eye that glanced Lily’s way from beneath a crown of white hair tied in a ponytail save for the leafy bang that covered the other. Her look severe, she bowed to Carreau before straightening up and clasping her hands behind her back. “Lord Carreau,” she said, her soft voice in sharp contrast to the hardness of her stare as her gaze returned to the kitsune. “I take it your treaty was a success.” Lily answered her glare with a casual smile.

Carreau waved his free hand. “At ease, Penning.” Even his voice had changed somewhat, from fairly normal to a flinty tone with a deeper, English inflection. “You are correct. Lily here, as well as her dog and her friend Brucie, are to be treated as guests. Please spread the word.”

Penning nodded. “At once.” Though her tone gave a clear indication she had more to say, she grew quiet with an inquisitive look at Carreau following a glance at Lily. After he gave a succinct nod, she continued. “During your absence, Lord, Mister Screed returned. He and Frolic found Verrine and revived her. They await you in the atrium.”

Perking up a touch at the mention of the name, Carreau crossed his arms. Beside him, the released swords floated upon a cushion of air. “Excellent!” The word seemed to inspire relief in Penning, whose tension -visible until this moment- ebbed.

“Also, Clotho’s network reports an end to the fight in the Park and what appears to be another battle about to begin in the inner city.”

Carreau snatched the swords once more and began to walk. Penning pivoted to the side to let him pass, then with a final glance at Lily turned to walk beside him. “Good. The details can come later. For now, let us welcome your sister back to the world of the living.” Half-turning back, he beckoned to Lily’s group. “Come along. If you’re going to be working with us, it will pay to know every face.”

“It will,” Lily replied slowly, her ears and eyes never at rest as she took in her surroundings. She still carried the dog, holding him close to her chest. She followed him for a while before she spoke up, asking, “a question has been bothering me for a while. You evidently already have the ability to revive the dead. What more power could you possibly attain, than overturning the one constant in existence? I know you’ve said you want to be able to be the equivalent of a game master in your video game world — yes, I figured it out, you didn’t really make it difficult — but short of deleting other players, what power could you gain that you do not already have?”

The odd group’s stroll down the pristine, cathedral-esque corridor paused for just a moment as Carreau stopped walking. A knuckle held against his chin signified his consideration for the question. “I must confess I do not know what you reference with the word ‘game’, but if you are curious about my goals, my desire is the return of my fellow Great Beings. Once that is achieved -and perhaps a few other things, such as removing the limiter that prevents any future growth from me- I need the wish no longer. Even at our strength, Air Rave faces an uncertain yet exciting future, and I would not cheapen our struggle.” He resumed his walk, Penning alongside him. The angle of her head suggested that she paid her master’s words rapt attention.

Not far ahead stood an ornate door. Carreau held out a hand, and a gust of wind pushed it open to reveal a huge, stunning room with a domed glass roof. For the most part it was empty, save some decoration here and there, and the presence of a handful of figures around the central fountain. Penning and Carreau headed straight for them, and as the distance was closed, the strange shapes of those waiting became more clear. One appeared to be a mummified cowboy, complete with six-shooter, poncho, and wide-brimmed hat. Beside him stood a curvaceous woman of rose-pink slime clad in an apothecary’s robe. Opposite her, lounging on a stone bench, sat a woman in hide brawler’s armor beneath a red priestess cloak, her blue hair poking out from beneath the hood. Right beside her, a broad, squat, mustached man with ashy gray skin and a smart-looking pinstripe suit only a few shades darker smoked a cigar, ruby-red eyes peering out from beneath his fedora.

“Umm… Boss, do I still need to wear these?” The voice was the Shark’s, directed towards Lily. He had one one of his metal legs lifted, and pointed at the mushroom-filled skirt and shirt that tied them to his feet. “We’re not really sneaky anymore.”

Lily seemed to consider it a few moments, idly scratching the dog behind one ear. “Alright, take them off. Stuff the clothes in the bag somewhere not filled with pastries. I might be able to repair them when I get home.” She then directed her attention to the crew of individuals before her, taking a step and a half to the side, as if to not get blocked by Carreau. She betrayed no reaction as she looked slowly from one to the other, merely giving each a shallow nod of acknowledgement, and greeting.

Before anyone could say anything, the slime woman threw herself at Carreau, almost bowling him over and causing Lily to take a step back. Everyone else present winced to varying degrees, embarrassed on the apothecary’s behalf. She embraced him in a sloppy hug, rose-red tears welling up around her eyes. “Carreau!” she bawled, “I’m sooo sorry! Instead of trying to find you...I went off and got killed fighting for some stupid wish, I-I brought shame on Air Rave, on you, on everyone! I thought you’d hate me, I’d never see you agaahaaain!”

Stiff with mortification, Carreau laid a hand on her head and patted her shoulder with the other. “Agh! Don’t...uh, do not worry, Verrine. All is forgiven. You’re back with us, that’s all that matters.“

Verrine fell silent, still shaking. The uncomfortable atmosphere lingered until the gunslinger let out a cough. “Well!” he rasped in a gruff voice as dry as his bandages, “That’s mighty kind o’ ya, Lord. An’ mighty nice to see the bunch reunited.” He crossed his arms, turning slitted yellow eyes on Lily and Brucie. “So who’re these folks? Ah, where’re mah manners.” Removing his hat, he revealed a bandage-wrapped, spike-crowned head that most certainly was never human. Holding it across his chest, he performed a slight bow and introduced himself. “Mah name is Screed. If yer a guest o’ Lord Carreau’s, yer a friend o’ mine.” After replacing his hat and straightening out, he joined the others in affixing the newcomers with an expectant stare.

Lily met his gaze and dipped her chin, never taking her eyes off of him. “I appreciate it, Screed. My name’s Lily, this is Brucie,” she waved a hand at the mechanically enhanced shark, then at the dog still in her arms “and this is Mouse. As for why we’re here, Carreau and I have made an arrangement, of sorts. I will leave it up to him to relay the details, but suffice to say it is... mutually beneficial.”

Behind her Brucie nodded, seemingly agreeing with all she had to say, but then spoke himself, “also, is anyone here an engineer? If’n we are gonna work together, I’d like if someone could look at my water cannon and see if they could maybe repair it? Hardly better ‘n a hose as it is now.”

Penning bristled. Though she held her tongue, perhaps anticipating what Carreau might say, her annoyance indicated that Brucie and Lily both had broken some sort of rule of conduct, even in the short time they’d been present. Mr. Screed, however, replaced the hat on his head and shrugged. “None o’ us here. Maybe Serval could help ya. Our artificer. Or, maybe he could whip ya up somethin’ new to replace it. Reckon this weapon of yours shoots water? Shouldn’t be too hard to replace.” His arms disappeared beneath his poncho, and his eyes shifted to the squat, suit-wearing cigar smoker as he hopped down from his bench.

Taking out his cigar, he released a cloud of black smoke in the newcomers’ direction, then turned to Carreau. Instead of craning his neck to look up at his master, the mustached man pulled a ledger from his coat pocket and tapped it with his knuckles. “Sir. Early report on the ancient city. Lots of soul energy, see?” He released the pad, which floated up to land on Verrine’s head. Having calmed down but not yet relinquished her grip on Carreau, she opened her eyes in surprise, but the ledger had stuck fast. A quick look around made her realize the embarrassing situation she’d put herself in, and with a nervous laugh she detached herself and stepped back. With a shluck she pulled the report free, straightened up, then handed it to Carreau.

A turn of the owlman’s hand created a swirling eddy told hold the item in the air beside him, One by one he spoke to those present who had yet to state their business. First, he faced Screed. “Was there anything else you needed?”

The deadshot shook his head, unleashing a minuscule cloud of dust. “No, sir. Jus’ wanted to see y’all together an’ meet the newcomers, really.”

Next came the priestess. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Finished the assignment.” Contrary to her stately robe, the maiden’s voice was rough and growly. “Shock absorption’s good, but basically no resistance to cuttin’ or piercin’.”

“Ah. I’ll go over the genetic blueprints with Clotho later.” Everything taken care of, Carreau addressed Lily and Brucie. “We got off on a little tangent there, but I will go ahead and conclude these less-than-formal introductions. You’ve met Mr. Screed now. My retainers are Verrine, Penning, and Margot.” From where she’d slouched this whole time, the red-cloaked woman gave a casual wave. Carreau then indicated the short, ashy man. “And this is Egon Baratta.”

“The pleasure is all yours.” Ego gave a terribly slight bow of his own before turning to walk away. After only a few steps, he dissolved into a stream of ash that shot across the atrium and through an open door.

Evidently thinking such an exit standard fare, Carreau continued. “What would you like to do, then? I can summon a servant to guide you to Serval’s workshop, or to a guest room, or you may join Verrine and I for a meal.” The slime woman’s eyes practically lit up at the mention of food, just as Carreau anticipated.

Lily, on the other hand, frowned at the proposals, her lips pressed into a thin line seemingly in deep thought. She shot a glance towards Brucie, her eyes flickering from his right arm, to the pack he carried on his back.

Brucie - the shark - was difficult to read on most occasions, given his inhuman features, but the way he kept not-so-subtly shaking his right arm, and glancing down at it, his preferred option was easily foreseen.

It seemed that Lily had the same thoughts as Brucie, since she gestured briefly to him, then said, “I think we’ll take you up on your offer regarding the workshop. The more weapons Brucie has, the more help me will be to me.”

Brucie’s attempt to stealthily pump his arm at the small victory, ended up about as subtle as one might imagine from a piece of moving metal on a shark.

If not for his mask, Carreau’s smile would have been as apparent as Brucie’s joy. “Certainly.” He raised and clapped his hands, From the nearest of the glyphs embellishing the atrium’s vast floor, an ethereal creature formed from a sudden surge of dark energy. Resembling a bizarre cross between a bird and ray, it floated in the air with a single, glowing red eye facing its summoner. In a clear voice, the owlman told it, “Lead the way to the Workshop at a leisurely pace.” He replaced his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you’re not affected by the Umbra’s Stare at all, but they’re nothing more than sentries with knowledge of Deadbeat Sky. It’ll guide you right to the workshop. Say hello to Serval for me. Nobody should give you any trouble on the way; an alarm would have been raised for an intruder, after all. Verrine and I will proceed to dinner in the meantime.” Around him, the group had already dispersed, with only Screed remaining. With a final wave, Carreau proceeded across the atrium, Screed and Verrine in his wake.

---

The blustering was becoming tedious. Was touching a door to open it, or using his vocal chords to call upon his servants too much? One would think someone of Emile’s—or Carreau’s—power would bear a quiet confidence, rather than show it off like some prizewinning pony. Was he really that insecure in his own strength? Did it perhaps hint at a weakness he did not want her to discover? It would make sense if he was, in truth, her inferior, and made such a show of some grand power to cover up for it; to keep her believing that they were powerful enough to handle themselves.

...No. As much as she would like to believe so, the speed with which Emile had moved earlier was the genuine article. Even Tsuki could not move that fast, and her kind was the fastest of the Shifters. Carreau was as powerful as he made himself out to be, and she knew she would be unlikely to defeat him were he to get violent. At the very least he had sworn not to kill her, but she wasn’t so naive as to put absolute trust into an oath made by a stranger. It was all too easy to weasel his way out of such a promise, even were it binding on pain of death.

She suppressed a sigh and thanked Carreau, making certain to let none of her exasperation bleed into her voice. She then turned to the Umbra, as he had called it. Brucie as its gaze passed over them, but neither Lily nor Mouse reacted.

“Lead the way,” she said, and followed when it finally started towards wherever this workshop was. Brucie followed immediately, as did Lily. Only a handful of steps in, however, she faded into nothing, and the real Lily became visible once more, exactly one and a half step beside the copy: Mouse, still held in her arms, was looking around curiously, sniffing the air.

“Wha—Boss?” Brucie exclaimed, looking from Lily to where her copy had been moments before. “How? When… Why?”

”Precautions,” the Shark heard an echo of Lily’s voice say.

“Don’t trust them?” He asked, to which she shot him a glance.

”The Slime Girl, remember her? She was a contestant, but she mentioned dying, yet is here alive. These people, whoever they are, have power almost on par with some individuals from my world. I would be a fool to trust them blindly, when they so clearly outmatch me. To them I am nothing but a convenient tool, but one this ‘Carreau’ needs. Now stay silent, the less you say about this, the less likely they are to decide I am not to be trusted either, binding oath or not.” Throughout all of this, Lily betrayed no sign of anything going on save keeping an eye on the Umbra ahead of them; neither a flick of any tail or ear.

Brucie, wisely, said nothing further, instead choosing to silently follow this Umbra as it made its way to what was, presumably, Serval’s workshop.

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Lucie cast a sidelong glance Adam's way, her lips pressed into a thin line. He had sustained quite the amount of injuries, and not all of them appeared to be physical. Despite all of the visible signs of physical pain, the hunched shoulders and hanging head, told her all she needed to about his mental well-being. It made her realise that she had gotten out of the entire ordeal easy. She and Aleksandra had had to only look into the matter of disappearances, whereas it turned out Adam and Lilliana had faced off against something horrible. Isabeau and her, frankly, terrifying power that bordered on mind control, as well as the abomination that they had somehow managed to kill for good.

To be more precise, I was the only one who had it easy. She bit her lower lip, chewing on it in thought. In a way it made her feel guilty, almost. She had done little but chase down someone who wasn't a threat to her, and prior to that she'd spent the night skulking about with Aleksandra. And even when she had exerted herself, chasing Isabeau, she had managed to make it into a game for herself; one of cat and mouse. Ianus Congregatio had done much for her, not the least of which was give her a home after her supposed death, and she paid back with efforts and aid that amounted to little more than proverbial change. She felt like she owed it to Adam, to the House, to do more.

She let one of the young hostlers take her horse, giving him a brief nod of thanks before she turned her attention to Ren. In the months she had been here, he was one of the few people who had legitimately impressed her. Not that the rest of the staff or members were disappointing, but few had exceeded her expectations as he had. Her initial impression had been that of a stuck-up butler, the kind who thought himself important simply by association with whatever noble they served. Ren, however, had proven himself to be a very compassionate individual, who genuinely cared about his master and their well-being, and was perfectly content with their lot in life. He took pride in his work and his job, not in himself. The difference might be small to some, but not many people had seen as many butlers or man servants as Lucie had, and especially not with outside eyes. It made her appreciate him all the more when he explained that they had gathered what items of value that were near the old mill, had been collected and brought back.

"Did you, by chance, find a revolver, too, Ren?" She asked while taking off her gloves. She stuffed them in her belt and started undoing her braid. "It was my Peacemaker. Colt, Single Action?"

He paused for a moment before a look of slight disappointment washed over him. "I am afraid not, Miss Lucie. Though some of the others who were with me, did manage to find an item matching your description. If you would, I could show you to the storage rooms, where we keeps such items?"

Lucie smiled, but shook her head. "No thank you, I will find it myself tomorrow." She walked up to him, placed a hand on the side of his face and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "But thank you," she added, "for arranging the baths."

She then headed for her rooms, pausing only briefly to look back, grinning at the flushed cheeks and wide eyes of Ren. And was that a pleased smile she was? Yes, yes it was. She chuckled to herself and hurried towards the promised baths, hardly able to wait to be relieved of the smell of sewage.

---

Lucie slowly twirled in front of the mirror, eyeing her own reflection with a critical eye. She wondered if the frills on her dress were too abundant, or perhaps if the design was too elaborate? Sometimes less was more, after all, and this piece certainly had strained the talent of her tailor, and taken up three months' worth of her share from that particular business. And that wasn't even mentioning the other things she had requested, which had been even more expensive since it had been a rush order. She just hoped Adam appreciated the suit she had procured for him. Hopefully it would have arrived this very morning.

"Anna, be a dear and fetch my necklace, the one with the emerald," Lucie said aloud, addressing the serving girl she had requested assigned to her. She had asked Adam if she could have this particular servant attend her in particular, partially because she was very near Lucie's own age — just two years her senior — and also because she had, as Lucie had discovered quickly, a very convenient psychic talent of her own. Some might have called it mind reading, or a variance of future sight, but it was more accurate to simply call it a very powerful intuition. It was because of said power, that she could barely finish the sentence before Anna pressed the necklace into her hand.

"Here you go, Miss Lucie," she said demurely, taking a step back and allowed herself a moment to look over Lucie and the dress she wore. "It's marvellous," she breathed.

Lucie let out a chuckle, fastening the chain around her neck and let the drop-shaped emerald rest against her breast. "It is, isn't it?" She asked, turning on the spot just fast enough for the skirt to flare and rise. She completed a few turns before she settled, eyeing herself once more in the mirror. It had taken weeks of trial and error to get this particular dress finished, and the result was better than she had imagined. It was a mix of a ballroom gown and dress, with some of the grandeur and stateliness of a gown, and the freedom, elegance and intricate designs of the dresses. It was made up of varying shades of blue for the different layers, though dominated most places by sky-blue. The teardrop shaped emerald that rested against her breast proved to be just the addition necessary to complete the look.

She grinned at her own reflection and turned to address Anna, only to see her already offering satin gloves she had been about to request. Royal blue and elbow length, of course. The sly smile she received was all the confirmation she needed, that her surprise showed on her face. So many months later, and she still managed to get the better of Lucie.

"Someone should give you a raise," Lucie said and pulled on the gloves, not even needing say anything before Anna also placed a pair of heeled shoes near her.

"I would certainly appreciate if they did, Miss," Anna replied, "but I do not think it necessary. I already earn enough to support myself as it is."

"Nevertheless," Lucie continued while putting on the shoes, "I do believe your talents aren't quite appreciated enough." She straightened up and looked down at her reflection again. "Do you think this adequate?"

Despite herself, Anna couldn't help but giggle. "Miss, you're dressed to the nines, and it is yet only morning. Any more, cosmetics or otherwise, and you will appear as if on your way to a royal ball."

Lucie hummed, stepping a little closer. "I do believe you're right. The bare necessities, don't you agree?"

Anna was just about to answer when she paused, turned, and went for the door. A single knock hit the door before she had opened it, revealing another of the servants, this one a shorter man. "Yes?" Anna asked.

"I-Ah... Oh." His eyes were, for a few moments, locked on Lucie who walked over to them, nearly towering over him. He managed to tear his eyes away just long enough to compose himself, when he looked back up at her there was nearly none of the awe that had been there before. "Miss Ruzicka, Master Adam invites you to breakfast with him in an hour."

Adeleia very rarely invited for breakfast or dinner, usually letting the occupants of the House dine whenever they desired, so when an invitation came there usually was a reason, she thought. Lucie nodded and give him a kind smile. "Thank you, I think I will." The servant bowed and left, closing the door after himself leaving Lucie and Anna alone again.

"Well, that certainly is a rare occurance. Maybe something a little more extravagant is warranted?" Lucie and Anna's eyes met, a spark of understanding passing between them. "How about a side-braid?" They asked simultaneously.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Lily didn't let any expression show on her face as her request for a different oath was turned down. Nor did she betray any thoughts as to Emile's wish. Truth be told, she had expected his wish to be something less selfish. The return of his two deceased friends, perhaps? That was a Wish she could have gotten behind, and would have supported herself. This, however, was something else entirely. It didn't just sound villainous, it was villainous. That he felt the need to stress that he was 'Good for it,' certainly did not give her any more confidence that he was not a treasonous, back-stabbing piece of filth. Quite the contrary.

So yes, he was completely right that Lily did not trust him. That he had not been antagonistic from the start told her only that he was not her immediate enemy, but that was far from the same as giving her a reason to trust him. It was a credit to himself that he had, at least, admitted that he had every intention to betray her the second things were no longer convenient for him. The words may not have been spoken, but she was not a Trickster for nothing. He would only ever risk losing some of his power if he broke the oath, and even then only if it worked on him. And that was a very big If.

But that still left the question of what she would do without him and his crew. Which carried the greater risk: Having people like Emile on her side, who might betray her the second allying with her was no longer convenient for them, and thus risking a betrayal at the most inopportune moments. Or turn them down for fear of said betrayal, and risk them allying with one of the other contestants? She allowed herself to blink, using the moment of darkness to decide.

She had to take them on their word. Emile was incredibly quick, even by her standards, which would make him very difficult, if not impossible, to defeat if he turned on her. However, she knew two things that still tipped things in her favour. One among them was how the Tournament was designed, and how a Wish was attained, and the other was that Emile, however fast he may be, still moved at a snail's pace when confronted with lightning. At worst she employ her illusions and break his mind.

A betrayal she could predict and work to prevent, or make sure to turn the tables on them instead. But if they allied with her enemies, then she was simply up against foes she did not expect to be able to win without extreme caution and effort.

"Very well," she said slowly. "So you won't swear your aid to me, then. Consider this a request, then: Will you swear to not attempt to kill me? I should let you know that you have nothing to lose with this particular promise," she added, and began to slowly take out the phylactery from under her shirt without looking away from him, holding it up for Emile to see. "I expect you're able to see the differences between my Phylactery and the ones you carry from your deceased friends. Yours are dun, so if you kill me, the Souls I carry will be lost, and the Wish can never be granted."

She put the phylactery back where it pressed against her heart, and held her hand over it for a moment. She allowed a wistful expression to fall over her. "I came here to bring someone dear to me back. Even if I fail, I don't want to leave my fiancée wondering why I never came home again." She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back a tear she had not expected to appear. The very thought of not returning brought physical pain. She breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, looking back up at Emile with as steadfast a stare as she could muster, balling her hand into a fist against her chest. "I accept your proposal and your aid in the coming battles. And I swear on my power, that I will ask for my wish and yours, to be granted upon my victory in the tournament, aided by you and your companions."

She let her hand fall to her side, and waited.

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

Shit.

Everything had gone to hell. Not only had Sevrin arrived, but he had stolen the orbs as well. That one angel still believed himself to be superior to everyone, and just about everyone here was useless.

And somehow, things were bound to get even worse. Lily's attacks had almost all been negated, cut apart by that damnable sword. Without more time she couldn't mount an attack, that would get past Sevrin's defence. She grit her teeth and took to the air, intent on buying as much time as she could. She had the advantage of flight, and however high Sevrin could jump, he was no match for someone to whom gravity was optional. Fire and plasma coalesced in her hands. Twin orbs of fiery destruction growing stronger all too slowly for Lily's liking, yet it was all that she could do at the moment. Sevrin might have been immobilized by Kushiel and Akoni, but she did not trust the imbecile to deliver the finishing blow. He would screw it up, she knew it. And Akoni... He was powerful for a human, but she did not think him quite capable enough to finish off the likes of Sevrin, even if it was only an avatar of the true horror still trapped, behind the veil separating Hell and Earth.

Precious few seconds passed, and Lily started to feel confident that she had enough to blast Sevrin into oblivion. She reared back, as if to throw the orbs, but paused. Space opened in front of Sevrin, and a being that gave even Lily pause stepped up. She - it - blocked the Longinus. That, more than anything, was what made Lily banish her flames. The look Sevrin gave this new Void-individual was one Lily found herself in agreement with. Disgust and anger, and begrudging respect for being obviously powerful.

Could she dare risk attacking this new individual? They had blocked the Longinus of all weapons, grasping it by the blade. She grit her teeth, and tentatively tried to form an attack, only for Void to disappear, then re-appear a distance below her. She reacted immediately, shooting into the air just as a blast of darkness surged out from around Void. The very fringes of the explosion managed to reach Lily, covering her lower legs and leaving them human and bare, only patches of the fiery plasma that was her Sol body covering them.

Never before had she felt something like that. Felt something try to strip her power from her. More than anything, the gal of that ignited the anger within her. She was a Shapeshifter. She had created the art of changing forms at will; to separate what she was into multiple parts, using and enhancing each at any time she desired. She was a Master of her own body, and no one had the right to control what body she decided to inhabit. So she fought through it, not asking, but forcing er body to change back. The fire that made up her elemental body spread and struggled, covering her lower legs in pulsing patches.

It was only moments later that she reformed her body in its entirety, glaring balefully down at the newcomer. Had she been able to, she would have turned her to ash from the inside out, but knowing that she had a power like this... If she could use it at her leisure, the chances of Lily defeating her were slim.

So she turned her attention to Sevrin instead, who had now opened the vault's door and was already hurrying down the corridor. And within moments, a white-clad figure following him, screaming about how a sword was his. "Sparda's son?" Lily whispered to herself incredulously. The whelp's impossibly bad timing made her want to burn him, but she was forced to recognise that he was an ally of inconvenience at this point. At the very least he wanted the Yamato back, which made him an enemy of Sevrin.

She didn't even care to acknowledge the woman that appeared, content to leave her be since she appeared an opponent of Void. "Fenn!" She shouted, already speeding towards the open vault. "Heal, then follow me!"

Around her, fire seemed to coalesce in empty air, falling behind for a second only to trail behind her. Each second that passed saw more and more of these fiery orbs coming into existence, each one adding to the hoard of flaming spheres that followed in Lily's wake. Singular blasts of fire, or a Supernova, had done very little to Sevrin. He had been able to cut them apart with the sword. She wouldn't be able to defeat him by sending just one attack at him at a time, regardless of how powerful it was. But hundreds of smaller attacks, falling upon him like a tidal wave.

She didn't care how powerful the Yamato was. He could not defend against such a barrage.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Lily did note the way Emile both reacted and spoke when she mentioned Isekai. On its own she might not have found it especially odd, maybe just a sign of surprise by someone who hadn't quite thought of it yet. But he had previously mentioned his current body — that of the humanoid owl — not being his own, but being from the video game Yggdrasil. She was familiar with the name, as it was what some believed the Weave to be, much like in old Norse Mythology, but any game with said name was unknown to her. Knowing that his body was not his own, and that he looked like he had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, made Lily suspect something.

She briefly glanced down at Mouse, placed a hand on his head, and turned her attention back to Emile, only to see a blur of movement and a rush of wind. She jerked her head upwards, following the movement, seeing the owl-man standing atop the broken pillar, arms crossed and lording over her.

"What the hell?!" Brucie exclaimed beside her, looking around briefly before finally finding Emile.

Mouse let out a whimper and pressed himself closer to Lily.

Lily felt her eyes widen as a feeling of awe went over her, one she hadn't felt since she had first witnessed the feats of the mythical creatures up close. This man, whoever and whatever he was, was in a league beyond her. If he could move so fast as to be blurry to her, then she had no chance whatsoever at beating him. She fought to bring her expression back under control, putting back the usual mask of unflappability.

However proud she was. However certain she was that she could defeat anyone on her own. This time, she had to admit that there were someone in this alien world, that was her superior. His words from moments earlier came back to her; "...And when the load gets heavy, it's a good idea to have a lot of friends.” She was forced to agree. And the words that followed, that he would swear to her the aid of the entire guild, giant raven included, so long as she amended her wish to include theirs as well, whatever it was.

She rose slowly, ignoring Brucie's impressed mutterings beside her. She never let her eyes leave Emile, however much good it would do her if he decided to attack. "I appreciate your offer, but before I accept or decline, you asked a question." She pulled out the phylactery from beneath her shirt, showing the heart-like creation, the gears behind the single window slowly turning. This one was also still vividly red, as opposed to Emile's greyed and dun one. "This is an active phylactery. As you said earlier, containing eight souls. What you have are inert ones, no longer functional for its purposes. Notice the gears no longer turning? Long and short of it, the ones you carry aren't more than a piece of rubber." She stuffed it back underneath her shirt, eyes never leaving the stranger.

"As for your aid, I would like you to Swear it," she said, "Swear it on your Power, and I will swear to word my wish so that what you want also comes to pass." She silently hoped that his kind were completely beholden to such a vow, much like the Sídhe of her own world. Luckily, she, as a Kitsune, was not beholden to such a promise, and would not risk the lessening or complete loss of her magic, should she break it. Of course, that doesn't mean I won't honour it. But... Just in case their wish contradicts mine. "Are those acceptable terms? I'll need to know what your Wish is, though."

"I think it's acceptable," Brucue said, stepping up beside Lily, now no longer needed to guard Emile's flank. "You seen that bird? It's enormous. And he's quicker than I've ever seen you move—" the glare she gave him could have curdled milk "—so if the rest of his crew is anything close to that... Yeah, I reckon they'll be a good help. By the way, you gonna take those swords?" He asked, pointing.

Following Brucie's finger, and for the first time saw the two sabres leaning against the pillar. "Probably," she said, then looked back up at Emile. "But first, your answer, please? Your ring may be fancy, but I would prefer if you also use my world's Oath." She paused, brows furrowing.

A brief moment passed of silence, with Emile ruminating on her demand. "My Power?" he repeated after a moment. "...I take it there's some significance to this oath where you're from?"

Lily nodded. "There is. In my world, if someone swears to their power, they are bound to the promise, and risk the weakening of their powers if they break that promise. At worst they might lose them after repeated offenses." She pursed her lips. "I doubt it will even work for you, being from a different world, but at least humor me. If nothing else it will show me that you mean to uphold your end of the bargain."

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Adam glanced at Lucie briefly and almost chuckled. Almost. He was still a walking pile of pain and had so much more to do. He couldn't afford to relax yet.

He did smile briefly as he answered. About as lighthearted as he could be under the circumstances.

“Not exactly. No. Though maybe it should be. I can certainly see the appeal of a pretty woman dressed in just a short coat. All legs and leaving one wanting to unwrap her. Maybe I'll see if I can figure out how to start a fashion trend. You know...in all that free time I have.” The sarcasm dropping off his last comment could drown a horse.

“Really I just didn't want to have to fight again whilst naked. It's like peeing in the woods...you do it when necessary but it's still a vaguely uncomfortable feeling.”

Lucie blinked, then chuckled, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked. “That sounds almost as an admission. But that’s not important right now. What do you think will be at manor?”

“I don't know what we will find when we get to Isabeau’s house. I hope you are prepared for...well...anything.”

Lucie nodded slowly, any mirth vanishing at Adam’s words. She placed one hand on the hilt of her sword. “I’ve seen my fair share of things, even young as I am, so I am well prepared. But,” she said, now looking pointed at Adam. “I’m not a dagger to be pointed at a target. I will defend us if anything happens, but if you have any intentions of silencing whatever staff is in her manor. That blood will be on your hands. I just want to remind you of that.”

Adam fought back a snarl. His pain made him short tempered and Lucie’s defensiveness and her assumptions about him didn't help. He clenched his teeth and kept walking in silence for rather longer than he needed.

“I asked you to accompany me. I did not mean that you were required to. If you are uncomfortable with what might or might not be there you need not accompany me. I could use the help but my job is to defend the Society as needed; I neither expect nor ask anyone else to do my job. I protect what I care about.”

“My concern was of a more psychical nature. Isabeau was a brilliant scientist that apparently learned to animate dead flesh. I don't know what other alchemical secrets she may have learned or how she chose to protect them.”

The tone with which Adam spoke was not lost to her, and she did not pretend to not have heard it. Nevertheless, it was far from the worst she had ever experienced. It was nothing compared to the flat side of a sword for backtalk. “I came because you looked like you needed the help. But the situation just so happens to be, that I don’t know exactly what you intend, even if I can make educated guesses.” She let both her hands drop to simply hang along her sides, staring straight ahead as she spoke. “My impression of you is that you are not cold hearted, nor cruel. But you are deeply analytical and pragmatic... I once met a man like you who ordered the death of his late brother’s son, because he legitimately, honestly, believed that he could do better than the kid, and help more people in the long run with their business.” She fell into a thoughtful silence then, lips pressed thin. “‘His last words were, ‘it was for the greater good’.”

Adam shrugged and wished absently that he dared take milk of poppy. But that was far too risky. Instead he focused his mind on every possible option they might encounter as the brought this nights work to a close. He was getting tired already and this conversation was not helping.

“It's true I find logic is eminently more useful than passion and it's true people consider me to be a cold heartless cad, or worse, because of it. I’m used to it, it does get somewhat wearing though. And I am so very tired.”

“There are, I believe, precisely two people left alive in this world who know me well enough to what to expect from me. I don't even know most days; I solve problems. The “how” often has a few twists that I don't see until I connect the pattern. So believe what you wish about me; but perhaps you would consider reserving final judgement until the facts have been acquired, that is all I would ask.”

Contrary to the accusations thrown her way, Lucie actually smiled. “For one who advises having all the facts before making a judgement, you sure do have a tendency to make baseless assumptions. Even going so far as to contradict the evidence, to support your own narrative.” She chuckled, and randomly stuck her hand out to break off two branches, fiddling with them as she continued.

“I believe that I said that I do not consider your cold hearted or cruel. I have not seen you act that way.” She broke both branches, stuck one half of each in her belt, and then pressed the broken-off ends of the other two together. “Yet you claim that I made those accusations, and for that reason—” she took out the other two branch-halves, pressing their ends together, as if trying to make them fit “—you accuse me of doing what you have just done.” She then threw the branches over towards Adam, though being careful not to hit him. “Why is that hypocrisy, I wonder?” She mused with a hint of a smile.

Adam was silent for a long time running over thoughts in his mind. He hated to admit it but Lucie had a point. He hated assumptions. Absolutely hated them. But he had allowed himself to fall into that trap. He wished he could blame his pain and exhaustion but he knew the truth. He was just being waspish for no reason.

“You are correct” he said finally into the quiet “I apologize.”

For awhile it seemed that was all he was going to say but he continued several minutes later.

“I am extraordinarily tired. It is not an excuse. Merely a reason. I dislike assumptions and still allowed myself to be seduced by them. Again I apologize.”

Lucie offered him a charming smile, the young girl that she was breaking through the tough exterior. “Apology accepted.” She said nothing further for a while after that, content to walk in silence. She kept looking about however, seemingly staying aware of their surroundings and any potential threats.

It was several minutes later before she spoke up again, pointing with a gloved hand over the treetops, to where the tiled roof of a mansion had just come into clarity. “I assume that is our destination?” She asked. “Miss. Isabeau’s residence and house of horrors.”

“It's actually rather nice, if a bit outdated” said Adam absently.

Adam led them to the servants entrance and they walked in without knocking.

No one was about, not surprising since the better part of the night was gone. It made Adam breathe a little easier. If they were quiet they may not run into anyone. He hadn't brought any money with him for bribes so being unnoticed would be easier.

He adjusted his steps so he could move quietly and gestured for Lucie to do the same, though he found that she was already mirroring him. He called the layout of the house, from what he remembered, into his mind. They could automatically rule out any public areas and the servant quarters...she wouldn't keep anything important there.

“Let's try the bedrooms first. She has locked up one of the rooms; the bedchamber she and her husband used to share. I remember that from when I visited her right after the explosion. The servants were all atwitter about it. Locked up and boarded up the room. Doesn't mean there isn't a way in...if she had secrets that would be a good place for them.”

Lucie nodded and opened the door to the bedroom. It was an ordinary affair, as mansions went, and as such did very little to astonish her. She had, after all, lived nearly as ostentatiously when she were younger. She took off one hand and let her naked palm run along the rough wood, slowly following it around. She stepped aside the large cupboard, stopping only briefly to open the drawers to look inside. She found only underwear. Expensive, well made underwear, but nothing of interesting… Although maybe she should commission something with laces like those.

She clicked her tongue and closed the drawer again, continuing on her way. She pressed her hand against the wall once more, this time deciding that ordinary methods were too slow. She wanted to get back to the House, get a bath, and see what gossip she could get out of the servants. So she sent a pulse through the wall, and from it into the adjacent walls, requesting information of only a single thing: Doors.

Two things stood out to her. One she didn’t need to turn around to see, because she knew that was the door they had entered from. The other was different. It was in the opposite end of the room, near the single bookshelf. In fact, right beside it. “Over here,” she said and stepped over to it. Keen eyes roved across the wood that comprised the wall, squinting to discern whatever tiny difference there may be, to give it away. She found no keyhole or handle, which left her with only one option.

Adam watched her work while at the same time scanning the room with his own Talent. This room was far too perfect. Even skilled servants couldn't keep a used room this perfect. By the time Lucie had found the door Adam had knew Isabeau didn't live here and there would be a door to another room, but having Lucie along was faster and gave him other eyes. He was busy stealing a pair of Isabeau’s boots to replace the rags on his bare feet when Lucie spoke up.

“How cliché,” she muttered, and started randomly pulling out books from the shelves. She was careful not to simply throw them, but either handed them to Adam or let them drop cover- or back first. “I expected more of Isabeau. She appeared an intelligent individual, however depraved and insane, but I truly, honestly, believed her more inventive than to hide proverbial door knob, as a book on her shelf. Ah, here.” She pulled further on a small tome, the name Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu written in golden filigree, across the black leather spine. Something clicked, and the wall beside the shelf opened into a not-so-secret room.

The inside was… disturbing, in a way. It held a single, worn bed, the covers haphazardly made by the hand of someone obviously unused to doing so herself. A single window would light up the room during the day, and aside from half a dozen candles—some in candleholders, some not—there seemed to be no other possible sources of light. She grabbed a small whetstone from one of her many pockets, went to a candleholder with two, nearly intact, candlesticks. With a deft motion, she drew a dagger from her belt, struck the whetstone across the edge, and lighting the wicks with a few attempts. Now with light in hand, she could see the thing that worried her the most.

Something that looked more like a shrine to the occult than anything else. More half-melted wax candles along the edges of a chest-height dresser, accompanied by dozens upon dozens of pictures of Lady Isabeau and an unknown man—presumably her husband, the late Mr. Isabeau—plastered to the wall, many overlapping and a few burnt at the corners from the multitude of candles. Atop it the dresser lay bundles of paper and notes, an empty ink well and a dried pen.

“Is this what you were looking for?” Lucie asked, holding aloft the candle holder, shedding light on the shrine itself. She didn’t hide the disgust at what she saw.

Adam entered the room after Lucie, already guessing what they would find. The scope of Isabeau’s obsession caught him unawares though. Clearly she had been living in a hellish world, trapped in time. He could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Not exactly what I was looking for” said Adam absently. “But important nonetheless.”

A glance outside told Adam they dared not linger long. The sun, and the servants, would be up soon. He wanted to be away by then.

“I wonder what kind of a force the two would have become had he lived” Adam muttered absently. He was trying not to focus too much on the obvious signs of Isabeau’s madness. He would think on it later, in private, because madness was of special interest to him.

He quickly glanced through the notes and writings on the table, his Talent enabling him to quickly separate the important from the fluff. The pile of fluff was quite small. He bundled the important papers in a pillowslip he quickly stripped from the bed and turned to Lucie.

“Her lab” he said, “quickly. We haven't much time left to remain unnoticed.” He didn't mention his suspicion that at least one of the servants already knew they were there; servants were rarely as clueless as their employers wished. They were, however, remaining hidden which suited Adam well.

Lucie nodded and knelt down, pressing her bare hand to the floor. Beakers, Chemicals, Bunsen Burner, she demanded, her own Talent giving her the impression of several such items in proximity of each other. There was just one problem. “Far side of the mansion, top floor,” she said, rising. “It’s tucked in a corner of the building.” She then grabbed the cloth covering the blades of her daggers, handing it to Adam. “Tie this around your face, in case servants do find us. Cover one eye with your hair if possible. They won’t know who I am, but they’ll know you.”

She didn’t wait to see if Adam did as ordered, instead stepping quietly over to the door leading to the hallway. She crouched low and peeked out, but she saw nothing. Neither could she hear anything.

Adam nodded and did as Lucie suggested. On their way out of the room he grabbed one of Isabeau’s summer cloaks as well, it had a hood he used to cover his pale hair and muffle his form. He followed Lucie down the hall, as quiet as she was.

The lab was everything a well stocked lab should be; and very neat and clean. Adam and Lucie were able to make short work of their search. Much of what he found disturbed Adam, more so because he had almost been part of her experiment.

Adam destroyed what they couldn't carry; it was convenient that Isabeau stocked a variety of acids. The rest they bundled up to take back to the House. His keen ears caught the sounds of servants moving hastily about the house as he worked; but the sounds were far enough away that he guessed they were safe for now. It seemed the servants didn't care much about more beyond their own welfare. A pragmatic approach he approved of. Getting out of the house unnoticed was now his only real concern.

“I'm guessing most of the servants are gone now?” He asked Lucie softly.

“Last one left a few minutes ago,” she confirmed, hefting her own small bag of notes and equipment. “We’re all alone now. I take it we go back to the House? The others should have arrived by now.” She walked out the door, then, heading for the back entrance they had used to get in. “I do hope Aleksandra remembered to retrieve my pistol.”

“Good” said Adam “their flight will be obvious; with any luck if Isabeau’s disappearance is investigated at all everyone will be consumed with finding the servants. I’m going to lock up. Make it look less tempting. I'll meet you in the stables; I think we should help ourselves to one of Isabeau’s horses, hope you won't mind sharing.”

It didn't take Adam long to lock up and join Lucie at the stables, she had saddled one of the horses and was holding it by the reins when he arrived. “Let's go home,” Adam said, relief evident in his voice. He was more than done with this adventure.

“Let us,” she said, swinging herself up in the saddle, and reached a hand down to help Adam up so he could sit in front of her. “I think I want a bath when we get back. The sewers have left a less than pleasant smell.”

Site Server Issues - 22nd Jan

@Otaku95
I just had a 502 error. The whole "Retry a live version" thingie. So it's, sadly, still not resolved.

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

@Astarael42
I'm glad you like it xD Sorry about the wait.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Something about this owl-man was... odd. Not only his appearance which defied even Lily's understanding, but also the things he were saying, and his mannerism. The way he claimed to be from a different world, yet not in his own body. She didn't know how long he had been here, but judging by his words she did not expect him, to have been here for longer than she had—And certainly not to have become so comfortable in an alien body so quickly. It had taken her weeks to not be surprised by her own tails, when she had first become a kitsune, and that was not to mention the extremely odd sensation of her ears no longer being human. There was more to him than met the eyes, of that she was certain.

And what was that sound of metal scraping behind him?

She glanced at Brucie who gave a shallow nod, then started edging towards the side so that he flanked Emile, and was able to see what was behind him, and act accordingly should the owl try anything.

It wasn't long before Emile finished his monologue, and she could safely say that, assuming he was telling the truth, she had expected absolutely none of it. She knew of Rome and Disney: One was a sprawling metropolis, the other an animation studio, and she told him as much.

"Aside from those, I don't know of Dark Souls, but I have heard of the Treasure Planet. An archaic movie some five hundred years old. A Disney classic, they call it." She clicked her tongue, and sighed. "Never could get behind the ridiculous notion that planets were spherical." She sheathed her sword and crossed her arms, her eyes never leaving Emile. "But let me get this straight. You're claiming that this entire thing, island, city and all, is comprised of video game and movie objects? Bloody hell it's like a fucking Isekai anime," she said, rubbing her own temples in sheer frustration. "This whole thing just got a whole lot more obnoxious."

"What's an 'isekai', Boss?" Brucie suddenly asked, shifting his attention to her from Emile for a moment. "Ain't ever heard of it."

Sighing again, Lily sat down on a roughly stool-sized rock, folding her hands in her lap. "Basically some normal guy or girl is transported to a magical fantasy land. Don't ask me how it's still a popular genre centuries after real magic became a thing." Looking to Emile, then, she pressed her lips into a thin line, brows furrowed. His helmet prevented her from reading his expression, but he had yet to do anything to invite hostility, and had been rather amicable all things considered. It didn't make her like him more, but, "You have been rather... forthcoming with information, so I suppose I owe it to you. My name is Lily, and I'm what you'd call a Kitsune, or Nine-tailed Fox. I was a human once, some twelve-thirteen years ago, before a war between the four Discs started. A Disc is what you'd call a... planet, albeit nearly flat with only a slight downward curve towards the edges. Each is carried upon the backs of creatures called Dawn Drakes."

At this point Brucie had completely abandoned paying attention to Emile, instead listening with rapt attention to Lily's recounts. She hand't devulged this much information before.

"People like me—Shifters—came about to combat the enemy, those being the Endolans from the Discs, Endola. By using a sort of genetic splicing coupled with magic, and no I'm not going to explain how because I hardly even know myself, compatible humans were transformed into hybrids like me. Only, the time we stay Hybrids is limited, as the Essence we got from our patrons changes what we are. Thus, I'm now more Kitsune than human, with more powers awakening year after year." She paused, letting the information sink in. Nothing she had said so far was too valuable, but he had asked her to tell him about who and what she was.

"If your world is as similar to mine as I expect, then you should have heard of the creatures inhabiting my world: Dragons, phoenixes, naga, giants, lamias, Sídhe, pixies and more. As for this tournament: All I know is that the winner is promised to be granted one Wish, and I get the sense that there are no limitations to said Wish — that even the very fabric of reality could be altered to suit the demands of the Winner. There are two ways to win a match," she thumbed back to where she, Brucie and Mouse had come from, "you either kill your opponent. Or you make them a companion."

Brucie, evidently thinking this a perfect time to elaborate, said, "it's because of these ph--Yargh! Hey, don't zap me!"

Lily lowered her hand, errant sparks still crackling along her fingers. She gave Brucie a pointed glance before she once more addressed Emile. "And no, I am not going to tell you how you make someone a companion. And as I'm sure you have more questions, I would like one answered of my own." She then pulled out the red-golden feather from under her t-shirt. "You seem to know a lot about the things in this world. So tell me, what is this, what does it do? And more importantly, how does it work?"

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Lucie dared not let her exhaustion show on her face. She hadn't had to exert herself like this for a while. Not that the chase itself had tired her out, as opposed to carrying an adult woman for something like half an hour. Contrary to popular belief, being a slender woman did not mean that you were automatically light to carry.

She stood silent and watched as Adam unceremoniously executed Isabeau, and found herself impressed. Her amber eyes rested on the still-warm corpse for a moment before she looked at Adam once more, silently appraising him. "It seems I will have the alter my assessment of you. I did not expect you to carry out your own judgement, and certainly not with such extreme prejudice, or lack of hesitation." She offered the head of the House an acknowledging nod. "You have my respects."

She then turned to look at the rest of them, noting the various states they were in. Aleksandra looked no worse for wear. She had some bruises, it looked like, but she was in a far better condition than Lily, who was all but knocked out from the looks of it. She pursed her lips, listening to Adam and Ren bicker. They did need to gather what notes and the like Isabeau had collected, didn't they? If not there was the risk of not only the common populace learning of their psychic abilities, but also the—she glanced at the unmoving body of the monstrosity from before—possibility of bringing something dead back to life. As if the story of Carmilla was not dreadful enough. At least people knew that was only make-believe, and the fanciful imagination of an individual.

She sighed and turned back to Adam, only to find him already walking away, down a nearby path. She glanced briefly back and forth between the receding form of Adam, and her companions. Of all of them, she was probably the one least shaken by the events, on account of not having faced that thing, instead tasked with catching their fugitive. She made her decision.

"Aleksandra, help Ren and Lily, and return to the House, and rest. I will help Adam with the rest." She then turned and jogged after him, catching up soon enough and settled alongside her fellow Psychic. "I find that jacket is a little too big for you," She said, attempting to lighten the mood, however little she could. "I take it, it's not a fashion statement?"